


Self-Preservation

by albawrites



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: Yasuo isn't particularly used to having someone who stays. Neither is Twisted Fate, honestly.They try, in their own ways, to express their gratitude to each other.





	1. Don't Think

It’s common for Yasuo to end up roped into a bar fight these days. For all of the charm that Twisted Fate can smile and wink away at others, he’s also _incredibly_ talented at angering just the right -- or the wrong -- people. Yasuo guesses that for Fate, it’s like a game, a thrill of rubbing salt in wounded prides as he takes more and more of their money, whether he’s playing legitimately or cheating his way into filling his purse. 

It’s actually much rarer for the other way around to happen, for Twisted Fate to end up in a fight because of Yasuo’s personal demons.

It happens too fast, as these things do: bounty hunters and honorable Ionian soldiers have been tracking Yasuo, and in the case of Twisted Fate he’s a probably a fine two-for-one bargain for the bounty hunters. Yasuo has no love about fighting the soldiers that believe so fiercely that he’s betrayed his people, but he’d much rather be alive.

There is a part of him that almost expects Fate to do his disappearing trick. Not that he would ever blame him; this isn’t Fate’s fight, after all, and really owes Yasuo nothing. In the split second after the first set of arrows are deflected by a wall of wind that Yasuo slices into the ground, he can see Twisted Fate’s glowing eyes go half-lid as he’s considering.

And he stays, a smile forming on his face. “You never leave me bored, quickdraw,” Fate drawls.

Yasuo smiles tiredly in return.

In the brief glimpses that he can manage while also parrying attackers, he watches how Fate fights, a strange form of elegance as he flicks out his cards while also improvising as he swings a nearby shovel into an attacker’s face. It’s all untrained, but experienced, and he still finds himself endeared as he tries to figure this man out.

The headcount goes down quickly, leaving them with just a few more. It’s easier with an extra hand of help, Yasuo admits, though he isn’t concerned about defending himself. He can manage just fine.

He can’t remember, honestly, the last time he’s ever had to worry about someone else like this. Taliyah didn’t have to help him confront Ionian soldiers, and Fate’s bar fights are more like mild skirmishes. No, in this case, the last time he’s felt his heart caught in his throat is with Yone--

Which is why he springs into action as soon as he sees a sword from one of the last remaining guards attempt to gut Twisted Fate. He leaps in, his arms thrown around the riverman to push him out of the way. The blade cuts into Yasuo’s side, leaving a gash but nothing devastating, nothing that will kill him today. 

Disbelief marks Twisted Fate’s face, then the expression shifts to a frown. A card shifts to gold before he throws it at the soldier that had injured Yasuo, snaring the man in place.

“We should go,” Yasuo says, sheathing his blade with a wince. One hand clutches his bleeding side, the other takes Fate’s hand and pulls him to follow into the forest, a much easier way to escape being found again, at least for awhile.

The woods of Ionia are nothing like anything else he’s encountered. This forest in particular is tame enough, though the leaves facing up are bright and reflecting the moon’s light whereas the bottom portion is pitch black, giving them the perfect cover. The main source of light at the moment are Twisted Fate’s eyes, and that isn’t much to offer. 

Fortunately, his eyes adjust to the dark as they leave the main road, escaping into the forest until he spots a flowing stream. Well timed, as Yasuo has little more strength to give.

“Sit, you crazy bastard,” Twisted Fate says with a sigh, giving the swordsman’s shoulders a gentle shove to get him to settle down on a patch of moss. It’s wet and cold, but he can’t care about that just yet. “Let me see it.”

Yasuo grimaces, but he removes his hand. “It looks worse than it really is,” he says, shrugging and managing not to wince.

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna ignore it.” Fate cracks a smile at him. “C’mon, take your shirt off. Not that I need much of a reason to strip you, huh?”

That earns a laugh which turns into a grunt of pain. “Careful. If I do that too much, I may actually tear it open more.”

“Damn, you’re doomed. I’m the funniest man alive.” Twisted Fate smiles sharply to Yasuo before reaching out and helping him undress, at least enough so that he can have a proper look at the gash in Yasuo’s side. “Can’t say we have a ton in the ways of medical supplies. I could probably find the nearest village--”

“No.” Yasuo clenches his fists. “We’ve spent enough time with inns and taverns. We need to lay low. Trust me on that.”

Fate pauses, looking down at him. With a sigh, he presses his forehead against Yasuo’s shoulder, groaning dramatically. “You’re gonna make me sleep outdoors, aren’t you.”

“You’ll live,” Yasuo assures. “And so will I.”

“Yeah? You’d better.”

The mending doesn’t take long. Not that they can manage much, but Yasuo’s lived with worse. The water’s stream is enough to clean, and Fate is generous enough to sacrifice one of his shirts as temporary bandages. 

They manage a fire, though it is small and private. The shelter they’ve arranged are primarily from Yasuo’s instructions, a humble thing made of branches and leaves. Though he can tell Twisted Fate isn’t thrilled, the thief also doesn’t leave even though he very well could and easily leave Yasuo behind.

Somehow, he doesn’t. Through knowing what trouble it is to travel with him, even being out in the middle of a forest just so no one will find them even when Fate could have a clean room and a bed anytime he’d like -- somehow, he stays. Yasuo doesn’t have much to give, he figures, but there’s something that Fate’s found that’s worthwhile.

“Y’know,” Twisted Fate says, removing his wide-brimmed hat. He likes that, Yasuo thinks. It lets him see his face better. “We ought to at least find you a doctor or somethin’. Patched my own wounds for a long time, but--”

“What, you think this is my first sword stabbing?” Yasuo says wryly, reaching out to brush his fingers through Twisted Fate’s hair. It’s somehow still soft and silky, even out here with the moist air. 

Fate tsks. “And it’s not gonna be your last, but I don’t even have anything to keep it clean. We’ve been travelin’ pretty light.”

“Careful.” Yasuo cups his jaw, feeling Twisted Fate’s neatly trimmed beard. Tugging him nearer, he leans in to kiss the side of his mouth. “You almost sound like you’re worrying about me.”

“Now there’s a thought.” Fate pauses, then hums as he feels Yasuo work down his neck. “Heh, what, does nearly gettin’ gutted do it for you?”

Yasuo chuckles against his throat, nipping the skin with a canine. “Maybe I just want to thank you.” He doesn’t say what for, if it could be in regard to Fate helping him, staying, or--

“You romantic you.” Twisted Fate doesn’t press the matter any further, letting Yasuo push him onto his back. 

For some, a setting like this could set quite the mood: a fire, magical woods, and left alone by the outside world. For someone like Twisted Fate, Yasuo can tell by the wrinkle of his nose that he’s tolerating being on top of leaves as a bed at best. Seeing him frown at something so frivolous makes Yasuo smile fondly.

Thankfully, Fate doesn’t put up much more of a fight, doesn’t pester him about how he’s feeling, if they should find someone more qualified to examine the wound. He’s fine, Yasuo convinces himself, even as he ignores the throb on his side. He’d much rather think about this, undressing Fate and kissing down his chest. There’s a thoughtful gaze in Twisted Fate’s eyes, but also sighs of satisfaction escaping him.

“Nothin’ can tame this broom, huh?” Twisted Fate affectionately ruffles Yasuo’s hair after he unties it.

Yasuo shrugs, then nips his hip, earning a pleased little hum from the gambler. “No need to try. I’m fine with it.” He’s learned to let go of a lot of things, after all.

With enough teasing from his mouth, Yasuo is able to coax off Twisted Fate’s trousers. He wonders, idly, how the man might look in more traditional Ionian garb, wonders if he could convince him to try on a better day than this. As he feels Fate’s fingers gently scratch his scalp pleasantly, he drags his teeth over the inside of Fate’s thigh before sucking down hard on a spot, making sure it’ll bruise. It earns a pleased hiss from Fate, a brief squirm.

“Do we have any…?” Yasuo tilts his head.

Twisted Fate pushes himself up by the elbows, glancing at the other man. “Coat pocket,” he says.

After feeling about a few cards, stray coins, and likely loaded dice, Yasuo fishes out a bottle of oil. Leave it to Fate to pack the essentials, he thinks in amusement. As he starts to slick up his fingers, Fate gives a thoughtful frown.

“You sure this a good idea?” Twisted Fate finally asks.

“You don’t want sex?” Yasuo says flatly, not believing that for a second.

Fate clicks his tongue. “Don’t be crazy. ‘Course I do. But I’d rather you don’t bleed your guts all over me.”

“It’s fine.” Yasuo gently presses the tip of slickened finger into Fate, who in turn breathes out sharply before relaxing.

It is fine, he tells himself. Slowly, he inches his finger inside, curling, earning a wordless murmur from Fate who arches under him. Fate could have run, could have left him, could still, but he stays. Yasuo starts to fuck him with his index finger, keeping his pace patient while Twisted Fate sighs under him. It’s fine, Yasuo thinks, and he’d do it all over again to make sure the other man is safe. He stays, even if it’s just for the sex, and that’s fine, but it’s _something_ to know that the road he travels isn’t completely alone anymore.

Two fingers, and Fate is shifting back to meet him at the knuckle, groaning and humming his approval. His cock is hard, arching up, and that’s about how Yasuo feels right now too. Yasuo dips his head down, kissing the tip of Fate’s cock, who shudders in reply.

“C’mon already,” Twisted Fate mutters, spreading his legs impatiently.

“Bossy,” Yasuo muses.

“Hey, it’s your fault.” Fate beckons him with the crook of his index finger. “So hurry up and fix it, Yasuo.”

At the invitation, he finally forces the rest of his clothing off. He tries not to think about his side, how it aches, and he’s banking on making Fate forget for awhile too. 

It’s a familiar feeling, pressing to spread Twisted Fate open. It’s always a snug fit, but he isn’t tired of it, how warm the sensation is and wrapped tight around his cock. Yasuo watches Fate’s face, how his lips are parted, breathing and sighing as he’s filled. The man is a unique sight, his eyes glowing blue, vibrant and interested, foreign to Ionia but the magic not unwelcome unlike most other places in Runeterra. Yasuo admits he doesn’t know much about the river folk of the Serpentine River, but he knows enough that the rest of the world doesn’t think highly of them.

Right now, as he presses flush into Fate, all he can think of is how pretty the man is like this.

Wordlessly, Yasuo takes Twisted Fate’s hand, gently squeezing it. There’s a pause as he idly shifts his hips and Fate looks at him thoughtfully. Then, he adjusts their grip so that their fingers are more interlocked. It stirs a skip in Yasuo’s heart, his stomach tightening. He isn’t sure if he should think about it.

Drawing his hips back, he thrusts in, and Fate is groaning. He knows that the riverman can be loud, unabashed about vocalizing his enjoyment, but he’s thankfully attempting to stifle himself as much as he can right now. They are, after all, trying _not_ to be found.

Yasuo grips Twisted Fate’s thigh with his free hand, tight enough to bruise, and he starts to fuck with more earnest, pressing him into the leaves and the earth, hard enough that neither of them can possibly _care_ right now. There’s the rustle of the leaves under them, Fate’s gasps, and the slapping of skin on skin as Yasuo bucks into him, chasing the tight pleasure around him and earning more of the restrained groans Fate is trying to swallow down.

He releases Fate’s leg, instead taking the other man’s cock. “Shit--” Fate hisses, then uses the hand not holding Yasuo’s to cover his mouth, groaning against his own palm. It’s uncoordinated as hell, but Yasuo strokes him anyway, fucks him _anyway_. When the magic glow of Fate’s eyes increase, he knows it’s close, and he doesn’t stop.

“Let go,” Yasuo tells him.

Fate does, shuddering and jerking under the other man, his cum splashing hot in Yasuo’s palm and across his own stomach. His hole twitches and clenches around Yasuo, and that alone is enough for him; Yasuo pulls out, gritting his teeth as he finishes over Fate’s thighs instead of inside of him.

It leaves the two of them breathing. Yasuo is leaning down even if it hurts, his forehead pressing against Fate’s. Softly, too tenderly, Twisted Fate kisses him. He almost can’t handle it.

“Well, you made a right mess of me,” Fate murmurs with a lazy chuckle.

Yasuo smiles, hoping it’s not too warm of an expression. “Go clean up. We should get some sleep.”

“ _Go clean up_ , he says. Yeah, and you’re washin’ my back.” Twisted Fate nudges the other man’s shoulder with his own.

“Now who’s bossy.”

Twisted Fate just smiles at him.


	2. Don't Dream

They’ve been traveling together for months now, chasing and running from all manners of personal demons. Yasuo isn’t blind to the bounty on Twisted Fate, not that the riverman has any shame about it -- but there’s something else that eats away at him. It isn’t obvious and hadn’t been at first when they first started together, but Yasuo has noticed little things.

There’d been a time once when Fate returned from whatever he’d been up to, his blue eyes distant and almost haunted. Yasuo had wanted to ask what was wrong, but before he could even ask Fate just kissed, tasting like wine while his clever fingers touched until Yasuo let himself be content with the affection. It’s not like he could force the other man to speak. 

It was then he heard Fate moan someone else’s name. 

_Who’s Malcolm?_ Yasuo had asked.

Fate, for once, had looked vulnerable in that split second, the glow dimming in his eyes enough that Yasuo could see the real color underneath, a beautiful violet. The thief moved quick then, trying to reach for his cards, maybe to run. Yasuo had been quicker then, taking his hand instead.

_You don’t have to tell me_. Yasuo didn’t say it, but he quietly hoped that was enough.

The smile Fate had then was tired, and his shoulders had slumped. _Yeah. All right._

No explanation had ever really been given. Yasuo never demanded one. After all, it’s not like Twisted Fate ever asks him anything or demands to know. The least Yasuo could do is return the sentiment silently.

So, when Yasuo wakes, he isn’t sure what time it is. All his senses know is that it’s dark, and he’s too hot and cold at the same time. Sweat drips down his brow and he sucks in cool air, shuddering. Slowly, he pushes himself up, glancing to his side where he expected Twisted Fate to be, but it’s empty. Not that he would ever hold it against Fate, but he does feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach; did he finally leave?

“Fate?” he croaks out, trying not to wince at the dryness of his own voice as he tries to call for him. When Yasuo stands, his head is swimming and it’s difficult to focus. _Ah_ , he realizes. _I have a fever._

Still, he proceeds forward, stumbling. Out by the stream, he sees a figure crouching, humming an unfamiliar melody as he fills Yasuo’s waterskin. Glowing blue eyes glance in his direction.

“Yasuo?” the man asks, and in the haze of it all Yasuo can only see one face in particular.

It’s enough to make him freeze in his tracks. That can’t be right--!

“Yone,” Yasuo chokes out. 

There’s a pause, as if Yone is contemplating. Slowly, he approaches, and Yasuo doesn’t know _what to do._ “You should go lay down,” Yone says eventually.

Yasuo isn’t strong enough to fight him off, and Yone is guiding him back down to laying on the nest of leaves. Overwhelming grief and regret rises, and he cannot prevent the tears in his eyes. “Don’t go,” Yasuo pleads, grabbing for his half-brother’s hand. “ _Please_.”

An arm braces the back of Yasuo’s shoulders, the mouth of the waterskin pressed to his lips. “Drink up,” Yone says quietly, squeezing his hand in return.

Yasuo closes his eyes, drinking the cold water. It’s too cold, yet not cold enough, briefly satisfying and leaving him shivering. Once he’s finished, Yone pulls a coat over Yasuo’s body. That’s Fate’s, isn’t it?

Wait, where did Twisted Fate go?

“You need sleep,” Yone tells him, his palm pressing against Yasuo’s brow.

“No.” Then, Yasuo relents quickly with, “Yes.” His eyes shut, but he’s frowning. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.” The hand doesn’t remove itself, staying to Yasuo’s forehead. The contact is gentle, and Yasuo hears Twisted Fate’s voice start to hum that tune again he doesn’t know. It isn’t a shanty from Bilgewater, or any tune in Ionia that he can think of.

Still, it manages to ease Yasuo into sleep, or at least a form of it. Dozing, mostly asleep, vaguely aware of the world around him. That song stays, humming its lullaby to keep him complacent. Yasuo shivers, clutching the coat around himself. It smells a bit like Fate, the leather and the subtle scent of cologne, because that’s how he is, valuing so much in items and appearance, like he’s never satisfied.

When Yasuo opens his eyes again, the humming doesn’t stop, somewhere echoing. The landscape looks like the aftermath of Noxian invaders fighting against Ionian soldiers, a slaughter, an unnatural death laying in the burnt fields.

“It was you,” Yone tells him, bleeding from his stomach, because Yasuo had struck him down. “It could only have been you who killed Elder Souma.”

“I did not want this. I did not want to kill you!” Yasuo reaches out desperately for him.

“All you bring is death, Yasuo,” Yone tells him coldly. Drawing his sword, he cuts into Yasuo’s side where it burns, wrenching a cry of pain and despair alike. “And who would want that by staying with you?”

With a gasp, Yasuo’s eyes open again. Again? He doesn’t understand that, and he looks around, lost and confused. Somehow, he still hears the humming, but he sees Twisted Fate’s back, his long hair drifting in the wind. There are mumbled voices. Fate is talking to someone, but who?

The humming fades. But it also doesn’t. The tune is stuck in his head.

“...really appreciate it,” Twisted Fate says cheerfully.

“Don’t mention it,” a woman’s voice says flatly. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it. I don’t like having debts, especially to a human, and especially to _you_.”

That just makes Fate chuckle. “You two take care of yourselves.”

A sigh. “Come on, Rakan.”

Whoever is outside sounds like they’re leaving. In the haze of his fever, Yasuo squints, as if that will somehow glean any answers he seeks. Twisted Fate turns, and their eyes meet. A pause, then Fate smiles faintly, looking tired. A hint more open, a fraction softer. He looks beautiful, is all Yasuo can consider.

“How you feelin’, quickdraw?” Fate asks, sitting down next to him.

“Probably about as well as I look,” Yasuo says, his voice raspy.

Twisted Fate reaches out, pressing his palm against the side of Yasuo’s face; while Yasuo is clammy, sweating, and probably unpleasant to the touch, Fate’s hand remains, cool and soft.

“Better than you were lookin’ last night.” Twisted Fate brushes some stubborn hair out from Yasuo’s face. “Who’s Yone?”

The question hits Yasuo like a bag of rocks to the chest. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yeah,” Fate just says. “Guess that’s unfair to ask.”

“What happened…?” Yasuo gestures tiredly to himself, eyes open again.

Twisted Fate raises a brow. “Your little chivalrous act earned you an infection. In a couple of days we could’ve made it to a town, gotten you well, but…” He shrugs. “You seemed pretty worried about us bein’ found. So I called in an old favor.”

“I suspect a lot of people owe you a favor.”

“Yeah, well.” Twisted Fate grins crookedly. “Sometimes that’s more valuable than a bag of gold.”

Yasuo holds out his hand, and Fate takes it. “Thank you, for staying. For helping.”

For once, Twisted Fate says nothing in response. There is a troubled look in his eyes, and Yasuo wonders if he said the wrong thing. Instead, Fate is sitting close, running his fingers through Yasuo’s mess of hair. 

“Malcolm’s an old friend,” Fate says, his gaze steady as he looks down at Yasuo. “Malcolm Graves, stubborn son of a bitch and temper worse than shark in a blood frenzy. We ran together for awhile. Our last job together went down south. He wouldn’t leave when I told ‘im we should. So I left ‘im before it got too hot, and he got caught. Ten years later, he broke out and he’s real eager to get his due. I’m less eager to let ‘im.”

It’s quiet a moment, and Yasuo knows how much it must mean for Fate to share this. He’s rarely ever personal, but when he’s sincere and genuine it’s like a gift. Yasuo breathes in deeply, then squeezes Fate’s hand.

Yasuo swallows, and he takes the waterskin when it’s offered. “Yone is my brother. Was my brother. He thought that I killed our elder -- our master. He challenged me, and we fought. I won, unfortunately. He died blaming me.”

A sigh from Twisted Fate. “Family can be a real pain in the ass.” A pause, then more gently: “It shouldn’t have happened, Yasuo. You’re a good man.”

No amount of words will repair the past or the feverish experiences suffered, but Yasuo appreciates it regardless. He smiles up to Fate, exhausted in all ways. “From the way it sounds, you know a bit about complicated family matters.”

Fate shrugs silently. He isn’t ready to talk about it, and Yasuo won’t pressure him.

“A stubborn man’s pride is more to blame than your sense to live,” Yasuo adds quietly.

“That’s what I like to think,” Twisted Fate responds, his voice a shy more distant. “But maybe we’re both to blame for what happened. Don’t reckon I’ll get the chance to tell ‘im. He’s a real _shoot first, ask questions later_ kind of man.”

Yasuo lets out a sigh. “You deserve to be happy, Fate.”

That uncertain look in Twisted Fate’s eyes return, the blue glow dimming, the violet irises visible again. He turns his head away, and he lets out a dry laugh. “Get back to sleep, all right?”

There’s a part of Yasuo that wants to ask for a more serious response, but he doesn’t have the strength in the moment. He even tries to form a sentence, but a tired noise just escapes him instead and he relents, shutting his eyes.

“I’m right here. Don’t worry about it,” he hears Fate murmur.

The humming begins again, and Yasuo sleeps.


End file.
